Lost and Found A 50 shades prequel
by phlettie
Summary: A series of short stories set in the time before Christian was adopted. This is his first encounter with his new Mom.


She heard him before she saw him. The sound was high pitched, pitiful and painfully hoarse.

She couldn't believe that such a heart wrenching noise could come from someone so small and frail.

'Hi Doc.'

'What do we have here Jacob?'

His hair was matted, and filthy, like the rest of him. The smell was strong, a mixture of soiling, grime, sweat, and, most probably, fear.

What remained of his clothing revealed a mass of bones and a stomach distention more commonly seen in a third world country. His wide eyes were distrusting and his tiny frail limbs constantly on the move as he tried to wriggle out of Jacobs strong but gentle arms.

'Please lay him down here.'

'Doc, if I do that he'll run, even if it means falling. I had to give him a shot just to get him from his home and in to the truck. He has only just woken up and hence...' he indicated his vicelike grip on the child.

'Child Services on the case?'

'Yes, they called us. They couldn't reason with him or manage him. He was practically catatonic with fear whenever they tried to lift him away.'

'Away?'

Jacob dropped his voice, 'Away from…' Deciding against continuing, he turned to the doctor and mouthed, 'Away from his mother's body.'

Grace winced.

'Right, let's take him to a side room and take it from there. Can you manage? I think it best that no-one else tries to carry him, just now.'

'I'm good Doc. Let's just get the wee man sorted.'

'Do we know his name?'

'Christian, we think.'

'Christian? Christian, I'm a doctor, my name is Grace and I am going to try to help you. Okay?'

The high pitched plaintive noise did not stop. It was as if she had not spoken.

Cautiously, she reached for the hand in which he held his dirty tatty blankie tightly. He pulled away from her, turning in to Jacob. The noise became even more feral. He lashed out wildly with his other hand.

Reassuring him, Grace said sweetly, 'Okay Christian, okay. I am not going to hurt you. Do you hear me? I am **not** going to hurt you."

'Jacob, I think we will have to run the risk, rule out gas and cream and repeat your earlier intervention. At least his lungs seem strong and there is nothing wrong with his flight or fight reflex. As for the rest we shall see… What dose did you use?'

'Given that he is all skin and bone. I used a little less than the minimum. He was out for 23 minutes.'

She looked at Jacob indicating her intentions: and then stepped behind his tall frame. Jacob firmly locked Christian's skinny right arm out behind him so that Grace would have, relatively easy access. As Jacob looked back at her she nodded. He held the boy more firmly, his tiny torso, legs and other arm all bundled in together.

Grace took her chance, and after two failed attempts was able to inject properly.

The dreadful howling ceased almost immediately as Christian's taut distressed body went limp and Jacob laid him down gently on the bed.

'Jesus! He's just a bag of bones, and a small bag at that.'

'I'll be right back. Stay with him for one minute, please?'

Grace stepped out. Catching sight of Nurse Charmaine's long colourful dreadlocks she waved to get her attention and then beckoned her over.

'Hi Doc, can I get you something?'

'I need some clean warm clothing for two year old and erm…this,' Grace held up the soiled blankie, 'washed, dried and ready to put back in this child's hand within sixty minutes.'

'Okay?' Charmaine looked perturbed. 'Anything else?'

'Hmm. Possibly some good but well diluted orange juice and some food but only a very small portion in each case. Can you work your usual magic?'

'I can.' Charmaine smiled.

'Good. Then please put in an urgent request for a full MRI and come back to assist, if you can.'

Grace stepped back into the now quietened room.

'Before you go Jacob, any other details I need to know?'

'Mother appears to have been dead for at least 4 days. The vomit next to her body was older. He was lying asleep next to her. There was no food in the house and the freezer door was open. He seems to have been gnawing at some pack of resin like item- contents unknown. God only knows what was stuck to the back of that freezer.'

'Father? Other relatives?'

'Child Services are looking into it. I don't hold out much hope.'

'Anything else that would or could help sooth him when he wakes? Toys, Mother's perfume, a picture of her, of them together? Anything?'

''I'll get Child Services on to it. I did look, but the only toys in the whole place were the two cars in the room with the boy and his mother. All I got was a faint smell of lavender in the bedroom. Not fresh but it was there.'

'Thanks Jacob.'

'No problem Doc. I'll pop in to see him again. Poor blighter.'

'Right, I'd better move on. I haven't got much time.'

'Doc? One last thing.'

'Yes?'

'We think he is closer to four than two years old.'

'Four! Dear God! Are you sure?'

'Neighbours told us that they had lived there for over three years and that he was just a baby when they moved in.'

Grace was aghast. Her mouth fell open. It didn't seem possible, given the size and condition of the body lying, silenced, on the bed.

She shook herself and began her investigations.

Measurements: height thirty four inches tall, so roughly six or so inches shorter than expected. Weight nineteen pounds- less than half the average. Contusions- too many to count but count she must, in addition to signs of broken bones, current and old.

Sadly the checking procedure was well established and Grace worked quickly, almost mechanically, making notes as she went along.

Charmaine came in softly just as she was checking Christian's chest. As was her practice she closed her eyes, as she scanned her fingers over the rib cage and sternum, testing each thin bone, till her fingers told her to open her eyes to investigate the anomaly further. There were unexpected indentations that she knew, instinctively, were not chickenpox scars.

'Charmaine, we going to need the trauma kit.'

He stirred as she turned him over and there she identified more of the same type of marks on his upper back. She inspected closer, unsure.

Charmaine looked closer and said, 'Shall I start now?'

'Yes please, Charmaine. Can we use the audio feature too?'

'Sure.'

Two clicks indicated the camera and video were ready to roll.

'Young male child, ca. 4 years old. There is evidence of maltreatment, extensive malnutrition, severe dehydration, extreme fear of adults and of being held, possibly hapnophobia given his earlier reactions…or, perhaps, he is autistic. Maltreatment may or may not have been of a sexual nature- the full body scan will speak to that… Scarring on upper chest and back appears to be burn scars made from cigarette butts, twisted, almost in a figure 8 shape into the child's skin."

Grace paused and turned Christian onto his back.

"Arm and leg limbs reveal evidence of old fractures. Skin colouring is yellow and dirty but also indicates recent and extensive bruising consistent with the size of an adult male fist and a belt or similar implement.'

Looking up at Charmaine she whispered, 'Thank you Charmaine. You can switch it off for now. Let's get him to the MRI scanner. They should be ready now.'

'Oh Doctor…'

Firmly Grace said, 'No, Charmaine. We have to hold it together until we know the full extent and have completed our duty. Understood?'

Grace paused, composing herself too.

Charmaine sniffed, and nodded.

'Ready?'

'Yes, I'll grab his blankie and clothes on our way back so we can bathe him then.'

'Good. I hope we still have enough time. It is difficult to judge the right amount of anesthesia given his low body mass.'

'If we get there and it looks like we have to wait we can quickly bathe him first and then go back, I guess."

Wrinkling her nose Charmaine continued, 'He looks as though one bath isn't going to be enough anyhow.'

In the end the bath came first. Finally he looked human, and in his sleep, at least, much less haunted. His hair was a beautiful mop of copper strains in amongst dark brown curls.

Grace wrapped him in a towel, stroked his face and kissed his cheek.

Smiling she said, 'There you are. I see you now.'

Fifteen minutes later they were on their way back to the emergency room and had just settled him down when he started to come round, in clean warm clothing and his blankie right where it should be.

'Charmaine? Do you have the drink in a sipper cup?'

'I do. Here you go. I'll go warm up that food.'

'Hello Christian, how are you feeling? '

'Would you like a drink?'

Wide eyes followed her movements warily. Long thin fingers reached out for the sipper.

She handed it over, careful not to touch or surprise him with sudden movements. 'Slowly, if you can my lovely. Slowly.'

In no time it was gone. Grace smiled.

'Would you like some macaroni cheese now?'

He nodded.

When Charmaine returned, Christian scooted to the back of the bed on his haunches. His eyes widened further with fear, he looked from Charmaine to Grace and then back again. As if he was speaking, his mouth opened and moved but no sounds came out.

Grace reached out behind her and took the bowl, not taking her eyes off him for a second. Quietly she said, 'Christian, this is Charmaine. She made the food for you. She is a friend of mine and I promise she won't hurt you.'

Christian remained resolutely at the back of the bed as if willing himself to merge with the bedding and the frame.

'Shall I leave it just here, next to the bed, for you?'

Christian nodded. He was looking at the bowl and sniffing in the aroma.

'I know he must be starving but I cannot run the risk of giving him too much too soon. I'm also betting we have a cat in hell's chance of feeding him intravenously overnight.'

Charmaine nodded, 'Bless him. I just cannot imagine what…no, I won't go there. I'm going to make myself useful and collect the scans so you can read them and decide what's next.'

'Good. Though I imagine, sleep is next on the list.'

'For him or for us?'

'Hmm, for all of us, but for him first. God help me, I feel angry and helpless and tired! I could so ignore my 'Do no harm' oath if I found the miserable SOB responsible for this.'

'All of the above maybe, but definitely not helpless. Look.'

Christian had put the bowl back, slid down into the bed, covered himself and was looking at them, thumb in mouth, blankie under his chin, in that way only children on the verge of sleep can.

Within minutes he had lost the battle with his eyelids.

Thankfully, overnight, it was not necessary to consider alternative modes of restriction or medication. The sides on the bed kept him in place but Christian slept solidly for almost thirteen hours, interrupted only by two incidents of screaming, during which he sobbed and shouted, quite clearly…

'No, leave me alone! Don't touch me! Please don't!'

and,

'Mommy, wake up, please, please wake up.'

It was odd to hear his mournful voice, especially as these were the only words he had spoken.

The next morning Ella Nutini from Child Services arrived to discuss the medical review and to deliver two newly washed toy cars.

Breakfast, as with supper, was bolted and had to be administered in stages. The toy cars then kept him busy and distracted for hours.

Grace summarised for Ella, 'Blood test results show signs of cannabis in the bloodstream. Better than other substances I guess. What are Child Services plans for him?'

Ella usually hesitated to answer this particular question. It was invariably prefaced with a negative like, 'Well, we don't have a bed or a family right now, so…'

This time she was happy to be able to say, "Thankfully there is an opening in a good foster home, quite nearby, from Thursday week. In the meanwhile…'

Relieved, Grace responded, 'In the meanwhile that gives us sufficient time to check him out thoroughly. We are concerned about a hairline fracture to the left of his skull, just above his ears. He must suffer from tremendous headaches, from time to time, as a result, but as he does not seem to speak, at least when he is awake, we have to do all the leg work.'

'Will he recover?'

'Physically? Most likely. It will be long haul. He has tolerated food and drink relatively well so far. Everything gets swept clean off the plate. No messing. Every single pea, leaf, seed and pasta shell.'

'And mentally?'

Grace sighed, 'That's a totally different ball game. We have no idea of the extent of or even of the full and true nature of the mental damage. The physical evidence is only one part of the puzzle, as I am sure you know. Lyndsey Stobbart is coming to observe him today. I'm guessing she will need quite a few sessions before she can give us an informed view. If he doesn't communicate in any way it will all take much much longer.'

'Of course. I've had dealings with Lyndsey before. She is very calming but I can't help but feel…'

Grace interrupted,'…Can't help but feel that this case may be, shall we say, more of a challenge and far less easy to unpick?'

Ella stood up. 'Exactly.'

Ella's phone rang for the fifth time. Once more she ignored it.

'Now, I really must be going. As you can tell Child services is always busy busy busy. I'm relieved to see him looking so well already and I look forward to your completed report. I didn't catch your name. Is it Dr Grace?'

'Please, just Grace. I'm Grace Trevelyan-Grey. Lovely to meet you Ella.'

As Ella left, Grace reached for her own phone, dialled and waited, 'Cary?'

'Grace darling…'

'Cary, how long will it take you to get here? I've found him!'

'Are you sure?'

'Oh, he definitely belongs with us. I can't wait for you to meet him.'

'I'm on my way.'

This is one of a series of short stories to read whilst sipping your tea and eating a slice of cake. The stories aim to 'bridge the gaps' in the 50 shades trilogy.

Blue Bell and Eagle Publishing hopes you enjoyed reading it and welcomes your comments

Word count: 2450

Page **16** of **16**


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